Just Can't Stay Put
by FoxFire90
Summary: <html><head></head>Preseries. Sammy got the urge. The taste for freedom was just too tempting. WARNING: Spanking of minor.</html>
1. Urge

**Hey guys! Ok, so I'm back and I have started another story, although I currently have another yet to be finished! I know...I'm an epic failure...but what can I say? I have the attention span of a squirral sometimes. The shit just can't be helped.**

**This is a 2 chapter one-shot.**

**Warning(s): Language and spanking of a minor by a parent.**

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><p><span>Just Can't Stay Put<span>

By Fox

John Winchester gripped the steering wheel of the sleek, black, '67 Chevy Impala hard enough to make his knuckles white and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal making the metal-on-wheels lurch forward. To say he was furious would be an understatement. A sound caught between a sigh and a whimper brought him out of his red haze as he glanced over to his eldest son, Dean.

He could tell the nineteen-year-old was beyond freaking out even if Dean was trying his damnest not to show it.

John shook his head and placed a restraining hand on his son's knee that was bouncing up and down with enough force he could hear the _thump thump thump_ over the purr of the engine.

"We're gonna find him, Dean."

Dean nodded his head vehemently, "I know." He ran a hand through his hair and pushed out a sigh, "When we do I'm gonna kick his scrawny ass."

John smirked a little a that, "Yeah, well you can have what's left of him after I'm done."

Said 'him' was one, Samuel Eric Winchester. John's youngest son had the habit of taking little excursions in the last six months. It had happened twice since Sam had turned fifteen.

The first time John's youngest hadn't went far, only to the next town over. Sam had been gone for two days testing the freedom of being on his own. The boy had returned with a threat from his father if he ever did anything like that again he would be very sorry.

The second time Sam hadn't been able to control the urge to leave again. Just the thought of being able to do something he wanted and when he wanted was too tempting, so he left again. He made it to a whole other state and stayed for a week before John and Dean found him. John made good on his promise and nearly whipped the skin clean off Sam's backside and made yet another threat of his overall health were he to have a repeat performance.

That was three months ago and Sam managed to keep himself from creeping off.

Until now.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Dean's mumbled voice brought John out of his reverie.

He glanced at his eldest taking in the guilty slump of his shoulders before returning his eyes to the road, "What for?"

"I should've been keepin' a better eye on, Sam."

"Son," John sighed heavily. He knew he put too much responsibility on Dean when it came to his little brother and it was inevitable the boy would twist the situation to make it his own fault. "It's not your fault Sam ran off. _Again_."  
>Dean shook his head, "I knew he was itchin' to leave again. He'd been acting anxious all week and I shrugged it off." Dean slapped his own thigh in frustration, "I didn't think he would go off after you strapped him the last time. I didn't do my job and look after him." Putting his head in his hands he choked out, "I don't know what I'll do if something happens to him."<p>

John pulled off the road sharply and came to a stop on the shoulder. Adjusting himself so he could face Dean he laid his hand on his son's arm,

"Look at me, boy." He ordered. When wet green eyes locked onto his own brown glare John's heart nearly broke at the desperation he saw in them. "I don't want you blammin' yourself, ya hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know as well as I do when Sammy gets somethin' in his head nothing short of barricading him in a motel room is gonna stop him. You aren't responsible for the choices your brother makes. Understand?"

Dean wiped a tear away and chuckled at the thought of his brother's stubbornness. It was true Winchester style, "I don't know 'bout you but I'm done with this chick-flick moment. What'dya say we go find the little pain in the ass?"

John knew how to track his son although Sam was trained to hide. After him and Dean did a recon mission of the next dusty town they stopped in and asked around they gathered Sam was, in fact taking refuge in the small town. It wasn't hard to find the small abandoned cabin nestled in the woods just outside of the town limits. That's where Sam would be; the cabin was secluded and easy to keep protected.

John and Dean left the Impala a mile from the cabin and hiked through the woods. Using their hunting skills they were able to sneak up to the cabin without being detected by the youngest Winchester.

John peeked through one of the windows and spotted Sam sitting at a table with his back to him. The worry John had felt for the past two weeks released it's grip on his heart making his chest feel lighter knowing his son was safe and unharmed.

_Well, until I get my hands on him_

John looked over to Dean and nodded his head. His anger returned full force as he watched his oldest sigh in relief and sag against the building.

The father and son hunting duo made their way to the front porch, treading lightly. At a nod from his father, Dean silently opened the screen door. The distinct sound of a blade sanding against a wet stone filtered from the room Sam was in. With anger boiling in his veins John stepped through the door and crossed his arms,

"Samuel Eric Winchester!" He bellowed.

Sam jumped at the sudden booming voice and dropped the knife he was sharpening with a clatter on the table. He turned quickly to see one pissed off Dad Winchester.

_Oh fuck_

"D-dad?" Sam stuttered. The glare he was receiving almost made him piss himself. "How'd you find me?"

Dean stepped up beside their father and copied his stance of legs parted, arms crossed tightly across his chest, complete with murderous glare, "It wasn't that hard dipshit." Dean answered. "Who do you think taught you how to disappear?"

Sam expected his Dad and brother to find him but was surprised they had actually tracked him down to the small cabin.

Sam dropped his head and mumbled an apology.

"Sorry isn't gonna cut it this time, Sam." John replied calmly. _Too calmly_ for Sam's liking. "You know you're in a shitload of trouble, right?"

"Yes, sir." Sam responded barely louder than a whisper.

"Look at me, boy." John barked out. He waited until his youngest's eyes connected with his to continue, "What'd I tell would happen if you ran away again, Samuel?"

Sam's heart sped up and heat rushed to his face in embarrassment having to repeating John's promise in front of his big brother, "You'd give me the whippin' of a lifetime when you found me."

"Alright," John said with a tight nod, "Grab your knife."

In his peripheral vision he saw Dean give him a worried look as he uncrossed his arms.

Surely, Dad wasn't going to stab, Sammy. Right? Had Dad finally lost it? Dean prepared himself to save his little brother if needed.

Sam watched his father's face for a minute to try and find any hint of his intentions. John just glared at him with a determination glint in his eyes. Sam looked over to his brother for some sort of inclination and saw he looked just as confused and alarmed. Not finding any answers in Dean's expression Sam grabbed the knife off the table and hesitantly walked towards their father.

When his son approached him John stood up straighter and motioned with his head to the knife.

"Go out and cut a switch." He ordered bluntly.

_Oh God_

"Dad, no. _Please_." Sam pleaded. Dad had never used a switch on him and he wasn't exactly gung-ho to have the new experience.

It physically hurt John to hear the fear in his son's voice but he had to teach the boy a lesson, so he stood firm and unwavering,

"Go on, Sam."

Sam could tell Dad wasn't going to change his mind so he dropped his shoulders in defeat and walked pass him and Dean to go get the dreaded tool.

Sam searched for the appropriate tree limb through blurry eyes. How could he be so stupid? Why did always get himself in these situations?

Knowing better than to bring his father something flimsy or that would easily snap in half, Sam cut off a sturdy piece of tree and peeled off the leaves as he walked back to the cabin.

John watched as Sam came back wiping at his face angrily. His son stopped in front of him and offered the switch without looking at him. John took hold of the punishing implement and turned to his eldest,

"Dean, wait outside."

Dean looked like he was going to argue but stopped himself. He nodded grimly and gave his brother one last sympathetic glance before walking out to the front porch.

John turned back to Sam to see tears already leaking down his face. Not wanting to prolong the punishment any longer he exhaled sharply and put a hand on Sam's shoulder,

"You know why I have to do this, Sammy. Even though I don't want to it's my duty as your father. You understand that, don't ya?" He explained gently.

Sam looked up at John when he heard the different tone. More tears rushed out at the sadness in his father's eyes. He did understand. Really, he did.

At Sam's slow nod John steered his son toward the small table in the room.

"Drop your jeans and bend over." He instructed indicating to the table.

Sam took a deep breath as he fumbled with the button of his jeans. After getting them undone he unzipped his fly and with shaking hands pushed them down to his knees. Sam stood still after getting his pants down; he just couldn't put himself over the table.

John understood Sam wasn't being defiant as he stood in front of the table so he put his hand on his son's back and gently pushed him down. John kept his hand on the small of Sam's back and positioned himself behind him.

"You've got twenty comin'." John warned.

Sam took another deep breath as he tucked his arms under his chest and rested his forehead on the table.

John gripped the switch tight in his hand and brought his arm up high and back down.

Sam hissed and jerked at the first lash of the switch. He didn't have time to process the pain fully as the next line of fire was laid across his ass. Sam quickly decided that the stupid tree branch was way worse than his Dad's belt.

John kept the lashes coming with even strokes wanting to get the punishment over as much as his son.

After the tenth line of fire Sam couldn't hold in the yelps anymore.

"Ow!" He yelled out. "Dad, please! I'm sorry!"

"I know you are, kid." John replied as he continued with the onslaught on Sam's backside.

Dean stood outside on the porch with his back against the wall and his eyes shut tight. He could hear the _swish_ followed by a yelp and cry from his baby brother. Dean knew his brother deserved the hiding, it was dangerous and stupid to run off the way he did, but it still hurt to hear Sammy crying and pleading.

John blinked back tears as he finished with the last five strokes. After breaking the switch in half and dropping it to the floor he rubbed Sam's back as the kid sobbed into the table.

Sam couldn't move from his position bent over the table even as the whipping was over. His ass burned and throbbed and, God, that had been so bad.

After his boy was reduced to sniffles John tugged him up and helped him carefully right his jeans. The dejected look on Sam's red, blotchy, face split John's heart in two. He quickly pulled Sam into his arms and squeezed him tight.

Sam wrapped his arms around his Dad and cried into his chest. He hated to disappoint his Dad and he hated the sad look he got when he had to punish him or Dean.

John pushed Sam back and wiped at his face with his thumbs allowing his usual gruffness to fade into the background,

"I hate doing that, Sammy. It nearly kills me every time."

"I know." Sam managed through hitched breathes. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You're forgiven." John says and gives Sam's shoulder a squeeze, "You gonna be ok?"

Although Sam doesn't think he'll ever sit again he gives Dad a small smile, "I think I'll live."

"Alright, how 'bout we show your brother I didn't kill you and then head out?"

"Yes, sir."

While walking behind his sons on the way back to the Impala John sighs heavily. Evidently, Sam had forgotten the rest of his promise. He didn't have the heart to tell the kid he still had a week of hide tanning ahead of him after the whipping he just administered.

John Winchester always follows through with his promises.

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><p><strong>So, this is my first spankfic. What did you think? I wasn't too sure, but then again, I never am. Bwhahaha.<strong>

**Click on the little _review_ button there on the bottom.**

**Yeah, the one right down there...do it. Click it!**

**-Fox **


	2. Dealing With It

**Yes, I know I epically suck balls for not posting sooner BUT I do have a legit reason. Not that you want to hear my sap story but I've been homeless, my mother was severely sick (still is) which has left me to take care of her, I've been severely sick myself, and I've somehow lost my job due to circumstances that were beyond my control. So, there you have it folks, give me a damn break.**

**Awesome, now that we have the hurt feelings out of the way let's continue on with the story, yeah?**

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><p><strong><span>Just Can't Stay Put<span>**

**By:**

**Fox**

The classic car was silent as it was once again flying down the road; this time with all three Winchesters'.

John glanced in the rear view mirror which revealed both his sons sleeping. Sammy was laying on his hip avoiding his sore ass, pushed into his older brother's chest. Dean was leaning against the window with his arm tucked around Sam, gripping tightly. The boy has barely slept or ate while his little brother was missing. John was glad Dean finally stopped fighting the exhaustion.

As much as John's eldest tried to put on a tough exterior the father new his weakness was Sammy. Dean would let the usually impenetrable mask fall away and let the gentleness override if the youngest Winchester needed.

John shook his head slightly; _like father, like son_.

Just after one in the morning the trio pulled into a shabby motel in an another out-of-reach town.

John reached back to shake his son awake, "Dean,"  
>"Hm?" Dean groggily answered.<br>"I'm going in to get a room, wake your brother up and get our bags ready."  
>"Yes, sir." Dean answered through a stretch and a deep yawn.<p>

As their father went inside the motel office Dean looked down at Sam; the kid hadn't even moved when Dean stretched. The older brother gave a good natured _humph._

"Sammy," he said through another yawn. "Get up, squirt." All Dean got for his trouble was a groan from said little brother as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

_Brat_

After unsuccessfully trying to get his brother up for a second time, Dean noticed their father waving for them. Dean climbed out of the car and with Sammy's butt in mind carefully scooped him up.

John raised his eyebrow and shook his head as he saw Dean carrying a still sleeping Sam.

"He's a little old for that, Dean, don't you think?"  
>"The kid's beat." Dean smirked, "No pun intended." While his father was unlocking the door Dean mulled that over, "Actually maybe I did mean that, it was quite gen-"<br>"Shut up, smartass and get inside." John ordered as he held the door open.

Dean tried to duck pass his father to avoid the smack but John whacked him on the back of the head anyways.

"No fair, Dad." Dean scowled. "My arms are full with little bro!"

John gave his son a smirk as he went back out to the Impala to get their duffles. God, he loved that boy.

He loved _both_ his boys.

While Dad was getting the essentials for the night Dean laid his baby brother on the bed furthest from the door. He took off Sam's shoes and socks, wrangled his shirt off, and tugged the jeans until they slipped free past his hips.

Sammy had decided to partially wake up after his brother had already done the hard work.

"Dean," he whined half heartily. "Go 'way."  
>"Shut up, squirt." Dean huffed as he untucked the blankets, "Get under the covers."<p>

As Sam turned on his side Dean noticed his boxers were tugged down a bit. Dean winced; he could see red stripe lines from the switch.

_Definitely gonna feel those in the mornin'_

Dean was no stranger to getting his ass kicked. John Winchester demanded respect and obedience. Nothing less was tolerated. Dean's smart mouth had gotten him plenty of licks. Sometimes he just didn't know when to shut up. Other times it was his need for some sort of adventure.

Like a few months back when they stopped in Farm Country USA, Iowa. How he managed to let some of the local high school hicks talk him into cow tipping, he will never know. Nonetheless, Dean snuck out and found himself with three of the dumbest guys he'd ever met pushing poor unsuspecting cows over. It had been insanely funny up until the Sheriff caught them and called their parents.

John Winchester hadn't been particularly happy; not only did he find his son had snuck out, which he _knew_ was a big no-no, but got the attention of the town's one and only Sheriff forcing John to call in another hunter to finish the job. The pissed off dad let his displeasure be known that night as his belt did the talking.

Dean had decided to put cow tipping on the, _Don't-ever-do-that-shit-again list_.

John came back in with four duffles: one for each of them and the necessary equipment to protect the room and themselves.

"Alright, Dean." John sighed as he ran a calloused hand over his face and scratched at his scruff. " I'm gonna get the room situated, you get in the shower and then hit the sack."

Dean nodded his head through yet another yawn and then grabbed a clean pair of boxers out of his duffle.  
>John grabbed a canister of salt from his bag and began the normal ritual; wide arc across the front door, after making sure windows were sealed tight another thick barrier of the white grain was laid. Door secured, sawed-off shotgun filled with rock salt on the left by the door, regular buckshot shotgun on the right. Room secure.<p>

Dean came out of the bathroom with a billow of steam rushing out behind him,

"All yours, Dad."  
>John shook his head as he rifled through his own duffle for clean clothes, "Did you even leave me any hot water, dude?"<br>Dean shook his head no but answered, "Yeah." With a grin. John's eldest slipped into bed next to his brother, "G'night, Dad."  
>"Night, son."<p>

As always John was the last to go to bed but first to rise. He smiled at the sight of his boys in the bed next to his; Sammy was laying on his stomach with his whole left side hanging off the bed and snoring slightly. Dean was on his back, arms and legs sprawled with his mouth gaping open. It was hard to see where one boy started and the other ended, nevermind trying to figure out the tangled mess of sheets.

John got up and stretched trying to vehemently to deny the crackling and popping Dean always pointed out while using the phrase 'old man'.

He always answered the comment with a good natured threat of a thorough ass kicking followed by a wink from said 'old man'.

The Marine in him reminded John that he hadn't ran in the two weeks since his youngest child had been gone, so, he got his ass in gear and headed out.

The crisp morning air did wonders for the Hunter as he pumped his legs and loosened his joints. As he ran John found that he was smiling, not grinning or smirking, but an honest-to-God smile.

_Damn, it's been too long_

Having his boy out in the world by himself had threatened what was left of John's sanity. When he realized Sam had left again is stomach clenched violently and sweat immediately broke out over his entire body. His baby boy was out there unprotected. Out there with all the fuglies that crept around not to mention the sick bastards that prey on children.

John knew why Sam kept leaving; the boy didn't have the passion for Hunting like himself and Dean. Sam didn't know the woman he was supposed to be getting vengeance for. Mary was someone who Sam only recognized from pictures. He got small glimpses of his mother from Dean who took after her, but looking at one person to know another just didn't work.

John also knew he was hard on the boys. He was strict and when it came to Hunting letting the Marine loose to efficiently get the job done. It seemed like he was always having to punish one of his boys; Dean for his mouth and stupid stunts. Sam for his lack of respect and the constant need to let Dad know he was full of piss and vinegar.

John knew normal kids didn't get their ass handed to them for not cleaning the weapons or for not laying down salt lines. Yes, sometimes he felt like a bastard when he had to beat a lesson into one of his sons' asses, but it was important lessons nonetheless.

He'd blister butts if it meant that those same butts were around another day.

When John made it back to the motel he was surprised to see that Sam was up and Dean still asleep.

"Mornin', Sammy."  
>"Hey, Dad."<br>Standing in only his boxers John noticed his son had obviously lost some weight, "Son," he sighed, "did you eat at all while you were gone?"  
>Sam blushed and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "The cabin wasn't exactly close to anything. Besides, I didn't really have money."<br>John thought about telling the kid it was his own damn fault but instead, "Guess that means you're expectin' me to feed you, huh?" Sam grinned sheepishly and then nodded. "Ok then, let me get a shower and we'll go eat."  
>"What about, Dean?"<br>John shrugged his shoulders, "The early bird gets the worm, Sammy."

After a quick shower and fresh clothes John and Sam left a sleeping Dean behind and headed to the dinner down the street.

After getting a seat at the diner John and Sam just _talked_. The father found that he relished in the feeling of just being _Dad_ and not Hunter. Sammy smiled more in the hour they were in the diner than the whole year and John felt his heart swell almost painfully.

In fact he was so happy seeing his youngest happy that John almost didn't go through with the punishment later that night. But, as much as John loved being Dad he realized he had to be all aspects, including discipliner.

After sending Dean out John looked over to his youngest who was laying on the love seat with his nose in a book.

"Sammy," John sighed as he sat on the coffee table across from his son, "we need to talk buddy."  
>"Uh huh, sure, Dad." Sam answered without looking up completely distracted.<br>John gently plucked the book from Sam's hand and put on the coffee table next to him, "Sit up, I want you to pay attention."  
>At the serious tone of his Dad's voice Sam sat up cautiously, "What is it?"<br>"We still haven't talked about your little adventure."  
>"I'm real sorry, Dad."<br>John stared into his son's eyes, "I know you are but you nearly gave me a heart attack, Sam. And it almost kills, Dean every time you run away. What if something happened to you, Sammy? Me and your brother couldn't live without you, kiddo."

The guilt Sam felt was crushing him. He nodded as tears flowed down his cheeks. He didn't mean to worry his Dad or brother and he didn't think about how much it hurt them. All Sam could think about was getting the hell out. He was tired of drills, the shitty motel of the week, taking orders, the whole fuckin' Hunting package. Sam knew that is wasn't his Dad's fault they had the fucked up life they did and he did the best he could, but Sam didn't want any part of it.

Sam shook his head, "Sometimes I just can't deal with this."  
>"With what, son?"<br>"Hunting. I'm not like you and Dean, Dad. I like staying at one school, in one town. I hate moving around and not being just..." Sam trailed off frustrated.  
>John rested his hand on the back of Sam neck and gave an encouraging squeeze, "Not being what, bud?"<br>Sam huffed, "Normal."  
>John sighed again. He knew what Sam's problem was, the kid fought him every step of the way. "Sammy, I know this life isn't fair and I know its not something you want. Its not something me or your brother wants either but for some reason our family was chosen for this." John paused for a minute, "I ride you and your brother because I love you and I want you safe. Do you understand that, son?"<br>Sam nodded again and the dam broke as he cried, "It's not fair though!"  
>John tugged Sam to him and wrapped his arms around the boy, "I know, baby boy."<p>

John waited Sam out and after ten minutes Sam was reduced to sniffles. He really didn't want to have to what he did after the kid's meltdown but John was a man of his word. It wouldn't do his boys any good if he threatened and then didn't carry out with it. What kind of stock could they put in his word if he didn't?

John gave Sam's back one more rub before he gently bushed him back so they could be eye to eye, "Sam, your punishment still isn't over."  
>Sam straightened up and his eyes got wide, "But you already punished me!"<br>John shifted his position into his down to business stance with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl in place, "I told you if this happened again I'd tan your ass every night for a week."  
>Sam's eyes got even wider and he scrambled back against the couch as his Dad stood, "Please don't spank me again, Dad! It still hurts from the other day!"<br>"Sorry, Sammy." John replied in a tone that suggested he really wasn't

John grabbed hold of his son's arm and lifted him off the couch. As he was pulling him over to the bed Sam dug his heels into the floor and tugged at John's grasp.

"Sam," He growled.  
>"Daaad," The boy whined.<br>John tugged on his arm again, "You keep fightin' me, son, I'm gonna take my belt off; do you want that?" Sam shook his head, "Ok then, let's get it over with."

Sam gave up trying to pull away from his father and let himself be dragged over to the bed.

John sat down and pulled his son to his side,

"C'mon, boy." The exasperated father sighed and gave Sam a pointed look. "Do I need to..." Sam trailed off as his hands moved to the button of his jeans.  
>John shook his head and gently took Sam's hand, "Not tonight."<br>He wasn't a bastard, John knew Sam was still sore from the switch, he wasn't going to make his boy suffer. After getting the boy situated over his knees, John placed his left hand on his lower back, "Do you understand why you're here?"  
>"Yes, sir."<br>"Ok, Sammy, here we go."

John raised his arm and brought his hand down on Sam's butt _hard_.

Sammy pushed all the air out of his lungs forcefully at the first swat. As Dad continued to smack, his solid hand quickly re-ignited the fire in his ass.

Sam squirmed as the pain built up to intolerable and almost slid off John's lap,

"Sam, stop." John ordered as he repositioned his son over his knee.  
>"But it hurts!" Sam wailed.<br>"It's 'spose to." John sighed, "We're almost done."

The father delivered ten more stinging smacks and then stopped. He rubbed Sam's back until the kid calmed down enough to get up from his lap.

Sam stood with a scowl firmly in place while rubbing his butt,

"This sucks." He commented dryly and then wiped at his face.  
>John chuckled at his son's revelation while shuffling Sam's hair, "You did the crime, gotta do the time, kiddo."<p>

Dean was sitting out in the Impala after Dad asked him to leave for a while. Dean wasn't stupid, he saw the resignation on his dad's face as he walked him to the door and asked for forty-five minutes. Knew his baby brother was probably getting the start of Butt Warming Week.

Dean felt bad for the kid cause he had been there, done that himself and really, it wasn't pleasant. But damn if he didn't find himself agreeing with his father's decision.

And what the hell was going wrong in the world? Dean agreeing with dad's discipline methods?

Despite what his brother thought he didn't agree with _everything _the man said and did.

But still he suddenly felt old. Maybe he needed to go find himself something to get that thought he plucked the keys for the Impala out of his pocket and cranked the sleek beast to life.

Dean sat at the entrance of the motel parking lot looking both left and right to try and decide which way to go.

Didn't he see a bar coming into town? Left it was.

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><p><strong>I couldn't resist; Dean has landed himself in some deep shit. I'm just sayin'. Pretty please, with a fucking huge, gigantic size cherry on top, review. It makes my day. Really. Don't be afraid to let me know what you really think either. And <em>please<em>, I really don't want to hear any bitching about how you're against spanking and such. Really? I have a friggin' warning posted in the summary. You will be laughed at and possibly publically humilated.**

**Also, I promise the next post won't be as delayed. I know how much that sucks as a reader of other fanfiction material. **

**Oh yeah, I've put some additional info on my page. Feel free to check that out if you're interested.**

**-Fox**


	3. Harsh Reality

**Ok, here's the next chapter. I have to say this isn't my best work by far and I'm not thrilled with it. It just wasn't clicking for me. But, here it is nonetheless. I hope you enjoy.**

**Warning(s): Harsh discipline and language in this chapter.**

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><p><span>Just Can't Stay Put<span>

By: Fox

Dean laughed triumphantly as he found the bar a few miles from the motel.

"Dean, you're awesome." He murmured to himself as he locked the Impala. Nobody was getting in his baby!

When he entered the bar the loud jukebox pounded in his ears and the thick smell of smoke, puke, and raunchy women assaulted his nose.

Dean strode up to the bar like he was legally able to buy a beer and caught the bartender's attention. A big dude with who was at least 6'6" and twice as wide came over.

"Whatcha need, kid?"

"Kid?" Dean cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Flattering. A beer would be nice."

The gigantor raised an eyebrow of his own, "You got ID?"

"Of course." Dean quipped as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed over the fake ID stating his age as twenty-one.

After staring at the card for a minute the bartender shook his head as he tossed I on the bar, "A beer comin' up."

Dean knew Dad would have his ass if he knew that he was drinking but one beer wasn't going to hurt. He'd make sure to rinse out his mouth real good.

Of course being a Winchester he should've known things wouldn't go as planned.

A chick is what really screwed things up for him, as usual. Dean used his charm and was soon buying drinks for the doll. After his third beer and sixth shot of Jack things got fuzzy.

When he cracked open his eyes again a ridiculously bright light burned his friggin' irises. Dean sat up and found himself with a half naked chick sprawled over him. Through his alcohol induced fog his brain caught up that the bright light was the sun and he was laying on the backseat of the Impala.

_Oh shit_

The fog cleared completely as he realized he never went back to the motel the night before and it was now the morning.

He was in deep shit.

He quickly woke the equally hung over girl laying on top of him and they sorted through clothes and righted themselves.

The chick -what was her name?- insisted that she didn't need a ride and thanked him for the lovely night as she walked off to God knows where.

Dean quickly got into the driver's seat and cranked the car. He groaned loudly and slammed his head on the steering wheel when he flipped open his cell phone and found it to be dead.

And the shit just keeps getting deeper.

SPN

It was after 10am and John Winchester was beyond tired as he scrubbed a hand over his face. His eldest son never showed his face after he sent him out so he could deal with Sam. At first he thought the kid just went for a drive but as two hours passed he became irritated.

He tried calling Dean's phone numerous times never getting an answer. That's when John became worried something happened. Dean never ignored his phone.

Unless something was wrong.

God, he just got one kid back and already the other was missing.

John tried calling again but like the last few hours it went straight to voicemail.

"Fuck, Dean." He cursed.

Sam raised his head from the pillow on the bed where John had made him lay down even though he refused to sleep, "Still can't get him?" He asked anxiously.

John shook his head and was about to get up and go look for his son, no car be damned, when he heard the familiar Impala engine.

The father barked an order for Sam to stay put while he threw open the door to see his eldest climbing out of the car.

John rushed over to Dean and after a quick once over enveloped his boy into a bone crushing hug. He was so relieved he didn't feel Dean stiffen in his arms. He let Dean go and then got a good look at his son; Dean was practically vibrating and his eyes were darting around nervously.

A red flag immediately went up in John's mind.

"Where the hell were-" John started but stopped as the wind shifted and he got a whiff of alcohol, smoke, and _sex_. He glanced at Dean a little closer and noticed the boy was squinting, eyes red, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. His skin was paler than normal as well. "Dean, are you drunk?" John asked incredulously.

Dean shifted from foot to foot, "I probably was a few hours ago." He answered before his brain registered that wasn't the smartest thing to say.

John growled as he roughly grabbed Dean by the back of his neck and propelled him towards their motel room. Dean winced as Dad opened the room door, shoved him inside, and then slammed the door behind them. Out the corner of his eye he saw Sam jump at the sudden noise.

Only when the door was closed and the three Winchesters' were safely locked inside did John let go of Dean.

The boy stumbled back as he noticed the fire burning in his father's eyes.

John crossed his arms over his broad chest that he puffed up unconsciously and glared at his oldest.

"Explain." He ordered in the low, homicidal voice he usually reserved for whatever fugly of the week there were up against. "The whole story and so help me God, if you lie to me I'll double your punishment."

Dean took a deep breath and tried to find the balls he knew he had. He was nineteen for fuck's sake! "I went to a bar last night," he started. No need to draw it out. "And I had a beer and that's all I was gonna have, I swear dad, but then I met this chick and I ended up drinking more." Dean gulped at the purely pissed off look he was receiving, "Well, one thing lead to another and me and this chick we, um…you know. Anyways, I woke up this morning in the Impala."

Not many things made John Winchester speechless but his son's confession seemed to do it. He had stayed up all night worried sick thinking something bad happened to his kid. Hell, he was ready to call in the reinforcements, ready to move Heaven and hell to get his boy from whatever fugly had gotten him.

"{Jesus Christ}, Dean!" John growled, "While me and your brother thought you were hurt somewhere you were out drinkin' and fuckin'?"

Dean winced at the bluntness but nodded, "Yes, sir."

John made some kind of noise in his throat that was something between a growl and a snort. He stared at his son and then stared to advance towards him.

Dean threw his hands out in front of himself to try and placate his father, "Dad, wait!"

John didn't wait and without a word turned Dean around and grasped his neck once again, shoving him into the bathroom. Once inside he slammed the door closed and continued to shove Dean to the sink.

Dean grunted as his stomach hit the porcelain and his hands flew out to grip the sides and he was bent over it.

"Lose the pants." John barked as he unbuckled his belt with his free hand.

Dean's headache ramped up a few notches as his heart beat wildly at the clinking sound of his dad's belt. This was not good. He pissed the man off good.

"Now, Dean!" John ordered and then hauled off and smacked Dean's ass with his hand to get him moving.

"Okay, okay!" Dean gasped, "I need my hands, you gotta let off my neck."

John let go of his neck so he could straighten up. Dean's hands immediately went to his jeans button so he didn't infuriate the man any further. Making quick work of his own belt, he got the button undone and after pushing his jeans down to his knees Dean started to put his hands back on the sink when his father's voice stopped him.

"Briefs too."

Dean looked in the mirror at John's reflection with wide eyes, "Dad, please don't make me do that."

Dad had only whipped him bare once before when he pulled a stupid stunt and defied orders on a Hunt. He had nearly gotten himself killed and that didn't sit well with John. Dad made damn sure Dean knew where he stood on the subject.

"Let's go, boy." John forced out impatiently.

Dean glanced at his father once more before moving hands to the waistband of his briefs.

While his son was doing what he was told John pulled his belt off and doubled it over, getting a firm grip on the buckle. After Dean got his briefs down John pushed him over the sink again.

Dean's hands flew to the sink to keep his head from hitting the faucet as Dad bent him over. He was panting and the alcohol was threatening to make a comeback as his stomach flipped with anxiety.

The first lick made Dean inhale sharply through his teeth while his hands gripped the sink tighter.

_Fuck that hurt_

John wasted no time as he landed lick after lick, raising ugly, red welts on his son's backside. He put real strength behind the strokes, letting his anger out on his kid. It wasn't only the anger that was pushing him to beat Dean it was the fear that was feeding into the rage.

Usually the nineteen-year-old was able to make it through a good amount of swats before tearing up but Dad was swinging the belt harder that he ever had before. He didn't stand a chance.

Tears rand own his face as he grunted which quickly became, _Ahh's_. The whole ordeal was made worse by the _whoosh_ the belt made before making contact with his skin.

Dean quickly understood that he really screwed up and now he was paying dearly for it.

The _snap_ the strip of leather made against his bare skin reverberated off the walls of the small bathroom echoing in Dean's ears.

"Dad! Dad, stop!" Dean choked out. "Ah, shit. Please!" The pain was too much and he was scared Dad wasn't going to stop swinging.

John laid five more blistering stripes before stopping. He took a step back from his boy and huffed, "Don't you _ever_ pull that shit again, boy. Do. You. Understand?" He growled harshly.

"Yes, s-sir." Dean answered through sobs.

"Get in the shower. You smell like a goddamn bar."

John left Dean in the bathroom still leaning over the sink and gasping. He threw his belt down on the bed and snagged the Impala's keys before turning to a teary eyed Sam,

"Don't you dare leave this room, you got me?"

"Yes, sir." Sam squeaked.

Sam sat shocked on the bed even after Dad stormed out the door slamming it behind him.

Dean composed himself enough to stand up and close the bathroom door to take the shower that was ordered.

As he was tugging off his shirt the swirling alcohol in Dean's belly decided it was a good time to make its presence known. He hunched over the toilet and let the amber liquid spew out of him in a stupid amount of volume.

Damn, did he really drink that much?

SPN

John didn't get five miles down the road before he jerked the Impala to the shoulder, slamming the gear into park.

He turned the ignition off and only then after the car was still and quiet did he realize he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking.

God, what did he just do to his boy?

John had never lost his cool when disciplining one of his kids. Usually if he was too mad he'd send which ever kid out of his sight until he could deal with him.

Obviously the fear of losing one of his babies hadn't completely receded. It was still wrpapped around his heart, squeezing painfully tight and threatening what little sanity he had left.

John barely got the car door open before he barfed on the side of the street.

"Goddammit, Winchester!" John barked at himself as he slammed the door shut.

He had to go back to set things straight with his eldest son.

SPN

Dean stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist wincing as he moved. The water pelting against his ass in the shower had almost been unbearable.

He kept his head down unable to look at Sam knowing his little brother heard everything. Dean really messed up this time and Dad probably didn't trust him anymore. He hated to disappoint his father, it made him feel worthless.

"Dean?" A small voice brought him back to reality as he glanced over to his little brother. The kid was standing stiff with his sad puppy eyes glistening. "You ok?"

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean answered hoarsely.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Sam!" Dean snapped and then stomped back to the bathroom.

Jesus, why couldn't the kid just let him be? _'Cause he just heard Dad go postal on your ass, idiot._ Dean groaned at his own stupidity as he pushed off the door to get dressed.

The apology Dean ha ready died on his lips when he opened the bathroom door to an empty motel room.

"Sammy?" No answer. "Sammy!"

Dean panicked as he pulled on his boots. He had to find the kid before Dad got back. He didn't even want to think what he'd do to Sam if he didn't find him first. What the hell was Sam thinking? Dean couldn't believe his brother left again after what he just witnessed. Evidently his little brother had_ lost his damn mind_.

Dean grabbed his jacket and charged outside only to trip over stupidly long legs. Legs that were thankfully attached to his kid brother.

"Dean," Sam asked, "what's wrong?"

Dean pulled the much need oxygen in his lungs before he could answer. _Thank you, God_. "I thought you gave us the slip again." Dean answered as he righted himself.

"I'm not that stupid, Dean." Sam scoffed, letting his brother know just what he thought about his comment.

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean grinned. "I think the jury is still out on that one."

"Jerk." Came the automatic response.

"Bitch." The automatic reply. Dean let a few moments of silence go by before sighing and laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I didn't mean to bite your head off earlier, I just-"

"It's ok, Dean." Sam reassured with a smile and that's all it took.

Tears threatened to spill at Sam's simple words. His little brother was always willing to forgive no matter what Dean did. He loved the kid.

Any response Dean might have had was stopped by the familiar sound of the Impala's engine roaring into the parking lot.

* * *

><p><strong>So, yeah. There it is. Again, I suck...lol. I know, I know. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things. Please leave a comment as you exit, please and thank you.<strong>

**-Fox**


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